


frequency error

by leftfoottrapped (miikkaa_xx)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, MAMA Era Powers (EXO), Self-cest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:27:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25299130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miikkaa_xx/pseuds/leftfoottrapped
Summary: Obsession AU. After the clones lose the war to their originals, Chen suddenly belongs to Jongdae.
Relationships: Kim Jongdae | Chen/Kim Jongdae | Chen
Comments: 8
Kudos: 71





	frequency error

**Author's Note:**

> **warnings:** selfcest, violence, depictions of sexual slavery including rape/noncon

-

Jongdae comes to him in the morning and orders his staff to prepare him by noon.

They bathe him, dress him in nothing but a heavy collar and cuffs whose chain extends to the collar. His hands are folded neatly behind his back so his spine is straight, his chest out. They take care to redo his makeup—the dark smudged lines on his eyes, the red lipstick for his lips which stretch out over a ball gag. The jewellery for his ears and mouth remain untouched.

Naked, he is escorted through the long, cold lines of the laboratory-turned-headquarters to the meeting hall with its nine thrones. Not all of them are occupied; Jongdae's throne is empty so any can see the twee lightning bolt carved in the metal back. Such a shameful bastardization of his original scorpion.

Jongdae enters the room, always perfectly punctual, and is handed a leash. Without fanfare, he clips it to the heavy collar and tugs once. 'You will follow me to the Tree, understand?'

Chen only looks at him and likes that Jongdae's black eyes flick down to his gagged mouth that's already beginning to leak drool. With that, Jongdae starts walking, tugging on the leash.

  
  
  


The walk to the Tree involves Jongdae leading a ceremonial procession at noon through the long main road that cuts through this sprawling disheveled encampment to the half-withered tree that they worship. Those that live there come out of their homes—haphazard building constructs or tents—to watch Jongdae walk proud and straight, sparks of electricity jumping around his frame, while he leads the collared, _captured_ Chen.

Even naked and chained, Chen does not shy away from the gaze. He can feel their eyes on his bare skin, his soft cock, on the black tattoos blooming from his lower back up to between his shoulder blades—a brand to keep his lightning sealed, just like on all the other slaves the nine masters keep.

Jongdae does not let him see the other slaves often, but his preferences for Minseok and Yixing's company means Chen has found himself kneeling in the middle of a drawing room with Xiumin and Lay who risk punishment by glancing at each other in solidarity, reassurance.

Here, Jongdae is alone as he continues the procession. At the withered tree, Jongdae lays his hands on the white warped wood of the tree trunk and begins to funnel his lightning through the Tree. The air grows oppressive and heavy as storm clouds gather and ozone lingers dangerously in the air. Chen stands next to him, reveling in the power that he cannot access anymore, the electricity kept dull and dormant at the bottom of his spine, used only to keep his cock hard and orgasming on command when Jongdae taps into it.

There are cheers after Jongdae has finished invigorating the tree with his power; the tree only has a few paltry more branches to show for it.

Up close now, Chen wonders how they could have fought a war over this tree whose previous vitality has been drained away over the course of the conflict.

It was nothing now, like him, degraded and useless and chained to nine arrogant masters who promised future prosperity to retain their hold on the planet's population.

  
  
  


There is a history before this broken world.

It goes like this: the red force wants the tree and the original twelve defend the tree so there is war. The red force manifests its own guardians for the tree—replicas of the originals, twisted just right to be less constrained by pain or morals, to rip apart the twelve and take their place. Yet, the replicas lose, and the red force loses too, but not before devastating the planet to the brink of being uninhabitable. Hostile and dead just like the replicas—or at least they _should_ be dead.

The twelve, reduced to nine, instead brand them to seal their powers and turn them into symbols of victory, each one gifted their own to use as they wish.

Chen is gifted to Jongdae and it is both relief and insult.

Relief that it is not anyone else because Chen barely tolerates his own members, and the idea of being put at the mercy of these pathetic originals' whims would have truly gotten him killed for his blatant disobedience. He does not intend to die in his slavery, and he knows Jongdae has no interest in killing him.

Really, that's the insult—that his master is too good to kill him. Jongdae with his victorious pride, his contemptuous ego, presuming that he is both too good and yet not at all.

'Such honourable victors, keeping slaves,' sneers Chen before Jongdae learns to gag him near constantly.

After the procession to the Tree, Jongdae takes lunch in his room.

He goes through the ritual of undoing Chen's cuffs and chain so he can cuff Chen's hands in front of him, letting the long chain attach to the front of the heavy collar instead of the leash now. Then Jongdae sits at the table in a stiff metal chair while Chen kneels on the hard cement next to him, staring down at the food that has been placed on the floor in front of him.

'Look at me,' says Jongdae. It is the second thing he's said to Chen all day today, and Chen sometimes forgets Jongdae's voice is so low when not in the midst of sex. Reaching forward, Jongdae undoes the ballgag and nods at the food on the floor, the water in a cup. 'Eat.'

No, Jongdae has no interest in killing him, but he does take great care in humiliating him even in private.

Clenching his jaw, Chen hunches over his plate of food, using the limited range of his chained cuffed hands to spoon soup into his mouth, mix it with the rice and stringy strips of meat on his plate.

Still, Chen will eat, and take a private pleasure in the fact that Jongdae's meal is barely better. He may have more cuts of meat and fatter portions, but this planet was too ravaged to grow anything like it used to, forcing rationing for everyone involved.

After the meal, Chen is forcibly gagged again before he's even finished chewing his last bite of rice. 'Follow me,' says Jongdae, and Chen doesn't, levels him with a glare, asserts this much. Jongdae responds by throwing him to the floor so hard Chen cracks the back of his skull against the cold floor. His vision flashes in white and red from the pain and possible concussion, and there's no time to react before Jongdae's metal-capped boot is shoved into the soft of his stomach and Jongdae discharges his lightning to paralyze Chen entirely.

Frozen on the floor, he can only glare through slitted eyes as Jongdae leans down to tie a pair of leather hobbles around Chen's knees before flipping him over. He gets Chen's hands behind his back just like this morning with the cuffs' long chain hooked to his collar at the nape. Even as the paralysis begins to wear off, he is helpless as Jongdae rolls him onto his back and his hands are caught awkwardly between floor and his spine. With the front loop of the heavy collar now free, Jongdae clips on the leash.

'Fine then,' he says once he's done, forcibly pulling on the end. Chen rolls up and forward so as to not choke, his lunch already crawling up his throat. If he vomited, the gag would make sure he'd suffocate on his own bile trapped in his mouth. 'Follow me.'

As a master, Jongdae is precise in his control—over his lightning, over his slave.

With fits and starts, Chen manages to stand, his balance precarious with the hobbles tied around his knees. He takes quick small steps to keep up with Jongdae, knowing where they were going, thankful that it wouldn't be long.

The long hallways of their headquarters are as cold and ill-lit as ever. They pass by a few staff members that live within the compound, the civilians sworn in their religious zealotry to turn a blind eye on everything that occurred within these walls.

A moment later, they also pass another of the nine—tall, blonde, bitchy. _Sehun_ , his memory supplies. _The youngest_.

'Hyung,' he greets, flicking his eyes over Jongdae's shoulder to Chen. Wariness spreads through his eyes and Chen almost has to admire that there is no sign of his enslaved clone around him.

'Sehunnie,' says Jongdae. 'Heading somewhere?'

'Out. Junmyeon-hyung's orders.' Sehun's voice is clipped. He has not stopped looking at Chen.

Jongdae lets out a breathy laugh—a rare, careful note that makes Chen wonder if he also had sounded like that, knowing each of Jongdae's expressions had its equivalent in Chen. 'Do you like seeing my face like that, Sehunnie?'

Immediately, Sehun's cheeks flush, transparent as ever. 'See you, hyung.' He hurries down the corridor and Jongdae turns to watch, facing Chen. After a few moments, his black gaze drifts over Chen's face. 'I should give you to him for a night.' He purses his mouth in thought. 'But that would be a reward.'

A reward, Chen suspects, for himself. It would be truly a surprise if Sehun found the spine to touch him when he wore his beloved hyung's face.

They continue to walk until they get to an office. Kyungsoo is already inside and at his desk, surrounded by papers and his monitor screens. 'You're late,' he intones.

'Yeah, yeah,' says Jongdae with a wave of his hand. He has his own desk next to Kyungsoo, both facing a wall filled from ceiling to floor with screens showing various shots of the sky and land outside. The images are grainy but in colour, with the sun a burning white high up in the bright blue sky, no clouds in sight. Clearly the impromptu thunder clouds from Jongdae's ceremony at the Tree had dissipated over lunch.

Jongdae settles behind his desk, Chen kneeling next to him, staring straight ahead at the screens. It's only when he hears Jongdae shuffling through papers that he spares a glance at Kyungsoo, at the sight between his legs.

As expected, D.O. is there, kneeling under the desk with his head buried in Kyungsoo's lap, mouth held open with a ring gag and cradling Kyungsoo's cock on his tongue. He would not suck until Kyungsoo deemed his work for the afternoon completed and demanded D.O. finish him off.

Jongdae had facefucked Chen after lunch a few times. Came down his throat with a satisfied groan and catnapped on his desk while Chen gathered saliva in his mouth to swallow, over and over, until the taste of his original's semen had faded.

After a while, Kyungsoo had accused him of being a pathetic excuse of a god, and they had gotten into a fight—physical, childish, no powers in sight because their lightning and earth couldn't affect each other.

Chen had taken that opportunity to look at D.O., his soft lips stretched around the ring gag, his eyes dark and shining and resentful. D.O. met his gaze with a bitter pride mirrored in Kyungsoo and Chen had rolled his eyes—as if they had time to be prideful in their situation when survival was paramount.

Still, it had been the first time in a long time Chen had given his fellow clones any attention, any evaluation that wasn't, ' _you're weaker than me_ '. Perhaps the thought was mutual as D.O.'s gaze had softened in only a moment, eyes flickering to the way Chen's hands stayed cuffed behind his back like D.O.'s own.

Somehow, someway, they would get out. Until then—

D.O. had squared his shoulders and nodded once.

Survival at all costs. Obedience in exchange for another day.

After the fight, Chen had been spared being gagged on Jongdae's cock while Jongdae worked. The work was mundane and uninteresting; Kyungsoo and Jongdae were responsible for rewaking the earth by reviewing meteorological and soil information. Control weather patterns and shifts in the ground in an artificial harmony until something closer to the planet's original abundance came to life.

They would never succeed as long as the Tree stayed half-dead. Chen wanted to laugh. A pyrrhic victory indeed.

  
  
  


After a few hours of Jongdae making notes on which rains to bring when, it's dinner time.

Chen remains kneeling next to Jongdae, listening to Jongdae and Kyungsoo's conversations and glancing over at D.O.'s faraway expression as he suckles on the cock in his mouth.

'Finish up,' says Kyungsoo, a familiar cue.

Jongdae runs his fingers through Chen's thick dark hair, takes a grip. Forces him to keep staring forward at the monitors on the wall as he listens to D.O. sputter and choke while Kyungsoo facefucks him, brutal and careless.

Of course Jongdae would deprive him of sight, of reassurance that D.O. would not suffocate over his original's cock. Hatred burns hot in the pit of his stomach; Chen straightens his spine, rebels with perfect posture.

The immediate obedience has Jongdae make a sound of disgust, has him using his grip to throw Chen forward onto the floor.

'Suck harder,' says Kyungsoo, his voice a touch breathless. 'That's right—choke on it.'

The wet, pathetic gurgles get louder. Chen lets his cheek scrape against the cold floor and closes his eyes.

When Kyungsoo comes, it is with a soft sigh, as sweet as anything.

Jongdae tugs on Chen's leash until Chen straightens and stands up, careful in his hobbles. He follows in stuttering steps as they leave, chances a last glance back to see D.O. being dragged out from under the desk, his face blotchy-red and eyes wide.

It is the appetizer to a meal worth of horrified expressions that Chen will see at dinner.

  
  
  


Dinner every night is a family affair for those who choose to attend. An opt-in private circus of cruelty that Chen barely withstands night after night—motivated entirely by the bone-deep need to _keep going_ that he refuses to have smothered.

Tonight, seven out of nine of them are in attendance to feast and fuck in front of each other in depraved debauchery as they revel in their victory over their worst selves. The missing two are Sehun and Suho's originals.

Sehun's clone is one of two slaves who remains fully-clothed and cuffed with no gag; the other being Kai, who stays kneeling with head bowed next to his original. It doesn't last very long when the other originals harass the owners for a chance, a taste, and Chen has witnessed Kai spread out flat on the long dinner table, blindfolded and cuffed as he gets face-fucked and ridden simultaneously. For Sehun's clone—whose name Chen has forgotten, if he had one at all—the originals have been crueler. The boy has been forced to deepthroat one cock while taking two in his asshole simultaneously, plugged up so meanly, completely, that if he was screaming, the sound vibrated to pleasure the one in his mouth.

Kai's original and Sehun would sit and eat and watch those with their faces and bodies be ruined inside-out. Chen couldn't help but wonder if they thought they would be next should the clones end up killed in some awful accident mid-rape or a punishment taken too far.

Only in here is Chen allowed to look freely without punishment. In the beginning, Jongdae had leaned down and murmured in his ear— _look at what I could do to you_. A cruel reminder that by comparison, Chen's enslavement is simultaneously better and worse.

Better because Jongdae _does not_ share, does not grant his fellow originals the pleasure of watching something with his face become red and contorted and used. Jongdae's pride becomes Chen's protection against the worst of indignities.

Worse because it means every humiliation is a planned, practical punishment for Chen's simple existence.

There are clones whose masters are the opposite of Jongdae when it comes to sharing. The clones who never received their own names—nicknamed X-Chanyeol and X-Baekhyun for convenience—are owned by masters who bend them over for others' pleasure. Tonight, even while kneeling, he cannot ignore the commotion next to him. Minseok has stood up from his chair and pinned X-Baekhyun facedown on the table, his hand shoved up against the clone's back and icing over as his other hand gets his cock out. Chen can't tell if X-Baekhyun is open already, but considering there's no scream when Minseok fucks inside his hole, Chen then wonders why his original keeps him so prepared.

Dinner is much like lunch, where Chen's mouth is free and his hands are cuffed to the front so he eat his meal placed on the floor in front of him under the table. When he bends down to consume the paltry portions of rice and meat, stringy vegetables and water, he can catch the sight of D.O. doing the same across from him. His lips are stretched and cracked, blood beginning to scab at the corners of his mouth. Next to him is X-Chanyeol, getting face-fucked by Kai's original. Lifting his head, Chen peeks over the table to see Kai's original make a pained expression, his entire face red and slick with sweat, his frame slinking down his chair, one hand clasped desperately over his mouth.

Kai sits on the floor cross-legged and impassive to the whole event, feeding himself easily when only his wrists are cuffed. When he looks up to meet Chen's gaze, his jaw clenches at the attention, has him looking away—embarrassed at his circumstances, just like his original. It makes Chen sneer.

Only Jongdae and Yixing have refrained entirely from fucking someone at dinner. Chen knows Jongdae's tastes lie elsewhere—in Minseok, in Yixing, in the dead ones. He has said so when he's fucked Chen into the floor, scraping Chen's cheek against the rough concrete, snarling, 'did you like it when you fucking _killed_ them?' and all Chen can do is laugh and laugh and _laugh_ until he gags on his own vomit.

Why Yixing doesn't, Chen can't tell. Kneeling here, Chen has seen how Yixing gets hard in his pants, how Lay sleepily lays his cheek on Yixing's knee as if waiting for a signal to take Yixing into his mouth or hands. He's so sweetly subdued that Chen worries Lay has taken to his captivity, to his original, but then Lay will rouse himself from whatever deep waters occupy his mind and meet Chen's gaze and quirk that sharp little grin in reassurance.

The only other one Chen watches is Xiumin, who is constantly suffering from some new frostbite on his skin, his usually flawless pale skin bitten red and purple and blue even as his pride keeps his posture ramrod straight. Captivity is cruel to the one commodity Xiumin has always kept close—his authority as eldest, as strongest. Now, declawed and shoved to his knees, he eats his meal with a snarl. It takes a few long seconds before he looks over at Chen and there is no question that he will help Chen should Chen find a way out.

Chen finishes his meal long before Minseok finishes inside X-Baekhyun. He kneels there, watching, hyperaware of Jongdae in his chair next to Chen, how Jongdae would be getting hard to the sight of one of his favourites fucking the clone with punishing hard thrusts. Minseok isn't loud—hisses under his breath when X-Baekhyun must clench his asshole over Minseok's cock—and he's drowned out by the noises of all the others. Some who are eating, some who are partaking in X-Chanyeol's big open mouth, some who are providing commentary— _Minseok-hyung, you can be rougher, he can take it, fuck, harder, c'mon—_

The scene blurs, drifts. Chen loses time as he sits there, digesting his food, watching the slick in-out motions of Minseok's cock before him. The clone's thighs are beginning to tremble like this is something he _wants_ , like he's _close_ to the end that a lover would promise, and not _this_ —another filthy master using his hole like a sleeve for his cock, rutting out his own power trip until he shoots his load.

When Minseok comes, Jongdae stiffens next to Chen and Chen knows dinner is over. He feels Jongdae tuck two ugly fingers under the heavy collar and tug once. 'Up, come.'

Chen faces forward and stands. Turns to follow the retreating back of his master even without a leash to lead him. Catches a glimpse of white come sliding down the inside of a bruised thigh on the dinner table.

  
  
  


The only real freedom in his day is this room at night, unbound and ungagged and allowed to pick a fight with his master until the inevitable conclusion: Chen pinned and hurting and fucked so hard he can almost taste lightning on his tongue when he comes.

Before that, Jongdae removes the cuffs, the collar. He removes the hobbles. His hands aren't gentle nor are they unduly cruel. Chen wonders if he thinks of this as a formality. Like the procession at noon, these were the steps before the inevitable finish.

There is no audience here; then again, the only one Jongdae performs for is himself.

It sparks Chen's anger, that very same rage that stays banked in his stomach all day before it catches afire again, night after night when he gets the chance.

'Don't fucking touch me,' he snaps. Jongdae places the last of Chen's gear on a table next to a squat wide bed. The room's walls are an unimaginative laboratory grey with burnt streaks placed haphazardly from when Jongdae has had to discharge his power to keep Chen in line.

'Who else should I touch then?' Jongdae asks, voice lilting. All day he has been distant, his voice flat in his distraction, but now Chen can sense it—Jongdae's attention focusing on Chen now, his scattered presence gathering back up into himself, filling the room like the heavy ozone of an oncoming storm.

When Chen doesn't respond—another blatant misbehaviour—Jongdae raises his eyebrows. His arousal from watching his hyung fuck someone at dinner lays dark and glittering in his eyes, and Chen pulls his lip back, sneers.

'Don't be so arrogant,' says Jongdae after a beat. 'Like you wouldn't do this to us had you won.'

'And _that's_ a good enough reason?'

'Isn't it?' The air around Jongdae sparks in warning. Chen can feel some part of him respond—that aching, sealed power in his gut wanting to coalesce around him again. 'You would have put me on display on your own table instead of letting me eat. You would have stitched my mouth shut instead of gagging it. Don't think I don't know you.'

'And I would have been right to,' says Chen, voice low and flat and absolute. 'Because I'm not pretending to be anything better—unlike _you_.'

He wonders if Jongdae enjoys being reminded of his guilt, this parody of moral righteousness that they all wear in public while enjoying a vile debauchery in private.

'I _am_ better than you,' snaps Jongdae, gripping Chen's jaw with his small, strong hand. 'We're going to save this planet instead of sucking it dry like you all intended.'

Chen tries to wrench away from the grip. 'I thought I said—don't fucking touch me.'

'Should I fuck your Lay instead?'

Immediately, Chen's eyes go wide and Jongdae snorts, letting go because Chen has started to throw a punch in blind panic.

Without his lightning, Chen's violence is a pathetic theatre that Jongdae indulges for two more heartbeats before he's slamming Chen down onto the hard floor, his hands charged to paralyze.

'Don't you fucking dare,' says Chen, rolling onto his front to push himself back up on trembling arms. Even minute sparks from Jongdae's fingers had Chen's muscles seizing up against his will. 'You hypocritical filth—'

'I know right from wrong, unlike you,' Jongdae says, dropping into a squat to watch Chen struggle back up on his feet, his black eyes tracking each movement. 'Now are you going to give in like a good slave or should I leave?'

Chen barks out a dry laugh. 'You'd like that—fucking him when you can't get the real thing.'

Not a second later, he's kicked across the room, feeling his ribs crack from the force of Jongdae's boot in his torso. His back hits the opposite wall with a dull thud.

'Watch yourself,' Jongdae warns.

'Xiumin too, right,' Chen coughs, rolling his face up to grin at him. 'You wanna see your Minseok on his knees?'

It's true, it has to be, because Chen can feel the desire burn in this stomach and aren't they mirrors? Perfect replications right down to the worst parts.

He gets his head slammed into the cold wall in response, seeing nostalgic almost-sparks in his vision, before Jongdae is hauling him up by a grip in his hair until he knee-walks to the edge of the bed and bends over.

It's a beat later before his hands are already gripping the top bedsheet in inevitable preparation, listening to the hurried whisper of fabric being stripped off behind him. _The easiest way out is through_. It's only half a lie.

'Not hard enough yet?' Chen mocks without looking back. 'Should I talk about Minseok sucking your cock?'

A mean hand grips the back of Chen's neck in reply, keeping him pinned as Jongdae's cock notches against Chen's hole, pushes in dry even as Chen starts to scream.

'Shut up,' snarls Jongdae, tightening his grip, choking off Chen's voice. Still, Chen wheezes through the cruel discomfort of Jongdae's cock pulling out and pushing back in, using nothing except violence to fuck him.

It's better this way, takes longer for the pain to morph and twist in his head until he's unsure if he's hard from how good it feels, or how _bad_. Like this, his cock stays soft and he busies himself suffocating on the torment. Knowing Jongdae's own discomfort at fucking into himself unprepped is a perk.

Still, it doesn't stop either of them. Chen shoves his face harder into the bedsheet, keeping his knees spread as Jongdae fucks him from behind, kicking up the pace every time Chen's whimpers begin to quiet.

'Like you don't get off,' snaps Jongdae, tensing his fingers over Chen's nape until Chen feels a jolt of electricity down his spine. His body seizes up, and Jongdae can't help the groan when Chen's asshole milks his cock.

'Give me to your Sehunnie,' says Chen, clenching his jaw as he feels another less intense jolt of electricity run through his nerves straight to his cock, making him slowly get hard. 'I'll let you watch.'

 _That_ has Jongdae fucking harder, making Chen groan into the bedsheet as he feels Jongdae's cock deeper inside, stretching him out ruthlessly. His own arousal is beginning to burn in tandem with the random electric shocks. They both know it's the lightning that makes him run hot, especially like this—when he can taste the familiarity of his power at the back of his throat, just out of his reach.

'Leave me in his room when he comes back,' huffs Chen, letting Jongdae fuck the words out of him, driving his dick over and over. When Jongdae grinds hard into him, the fat head of his cock pushing over Chen's prostate, Chen can't help but clench down on him to chase the sharp spike of pleasure. 'Leave me leaking on his bed.'

'You'd fucking like that,' says Jongdae, his nails digging into the flesh of Chen's hips as he bends forward over Chen's bare back. Like this, he's probably staring down at the brand over his skin—and Chen moans when it makes Jongdae's cock ream into him just a little more meanly. 'Fucking slut.'

'Whatever— _ah_ , makes you feel better,' replies Chen, muffling his noises into the bedsheet as he feels his other half fuck him. With the way Jongdae fucks him every night, it's a wonder his asshole ever tightens back up enough to be forced open by thick cock. It always hurts, and it always morphs halfway, has his own arousal hard and dripping between his spread thighs. Every time Jongdae slams his cock deep, he feels that much closer to coming all over himself—touched only by lightning.

Maybe this time, his hole would be left gaping and Jongdae would finally offer him up on that dinner table. His small, strong hands spreading Chen's ass open and Sehun's whimpering voice as he slicks his long, too-big cock up to put it inside, because of course Sehun would think himself above taking a slave unprepped.

'Come back here.' One of Jongdae's hands reaches up to grip Chen's hair, wrench his skull back. It has Chen's back arch, chest coming off the bed. At this angle, Jongdae's fat cock feels so deep inside him that Chen imagines he could choke on it, letting out a strangled moan at being fucked so thoroughly.

'Then make me come,' he wheezes, his fingernails threatening to rip through the thin sheets as he's fucked and ridden, covered in sweat that conducts the sparks of electricity all over him. With his eyes closed, his body thrums in hypersensitivity: Jongdae's hot breath against his ear, Jongdae's short sharp nails digging into his hip, Jongdae's hot fat cock reaming him over and over.

Fuck, his asshole feels so fucking _used_ already, forced wide and dragging its rim over the thick dick that's slicked only by sweat and precome and effort. Even though Jongdae has fucked him every night for weeks now, his effort to carve a space inside Chen's insides hasn't abated in the least. It has Chen's body become familiar with both the ache and the arousal that comes with it.

Cocksleeves didn't come when they were used—but of course, Jongdae couldn't leave him be. Electricity jolts through his system and Chen's cock jumps, spits a long drool of precome all over the hard floor. Jongdae pants in his ear, a sure sign that his own orgasm is approaching, and lets out _more_ electricity.

For a split-second, Chen's vision flares white. Instantly, he's crying out as the sensitivity hits him, has him bucking back onto Jongdae's cock and trying to milk it, trying to continue riding that crest of pleasure. 'That's all it takes,' sneers Jongdae, and Chen snarls.

' _Fuck you_ ,' he coughs, the spike of _too-fucking-good_ slipping past him much too quickly.

'Beg me,' tries Jongdae.

'Kill yourself,' says Chen.

Another jolt of electricity, and Chen tastes it as he arches up and back and into Jongdae, involuntarily trying to get him closer, deeper, fuck fuck _fuck_ , he was _so close_ —

'Some slave you are,' murmurs Jongdae into his ear.

Immediately, Chen's eyes snap open as he screams in fury, in _humiliation_ , twisting his head to look back at Jongdae—

Jongdae kisses him, and sends electricity through his mouth. It tastes like ozone and fire and power and Chen comes so fucking hard his entire frame seizes up.

For long, long seconds, Chen's hole spasms around Jongdae's cock still deep inside him. Jongdae wraps both his arms around Chen's torso to keep him pinned and upright as he continues to flex his hips, fucking his fat dick through that sudden friction and moaning at how good it feels to have Chen come on his cock.

Chen barely registers it through the loud buzzing noise in his skull, searching desperately for that piece of lightning that slipped inside him. Even under the muffled blanket of the brand, his power is _still_ there, coming into relief every time Jongdae fucks into his prostate and lights up his nerves.

'Gonna come,' mutters Jongdae, more out of habit than anything. Chen can't hear him, but he can _feel_ —the way he's clutched too tightly to squirm away when Jongdae reams into his hole, using him like a pathetic powerless cocksleeve, each thrust knocking a whimper out of Chen's throat.

In half a dozen more snaps of Jongdae's sharp hips, Jongdae lets out a long low sound, almost pretty if it didn't accompany his orgasm pumping warm and wet inside of Chen's hole. Involuntarily, his ass tightens up at the sensation, helping milk the thick length inside of him. He shudders when he feels Jongdae's thighs flex under his ass, ropes of semen filling him up, marking him.

After sex… isn't as predictable. Chen half-expects to be laid out on the floor with his hands cuffed, left cold and leaking come until the staff come in to clean him up and put him to bed. Other times, Jongdae has the decency to lift him onto the bed wearing his cuffs and maybe even his collar before leaving for the staff to deal with later. On rare occasions, Jongdae will stay. He will sit and watch as Chen is systematically bathed and brushed, unhindered by any collar or gear for once, held captive only by Jongdae's presence.

This time, Jongdae pulls out and turns him around, makes Chen straddle his lap and face him as they both sit on the cold floor, covered in sweat and come, scented with electricity.

Chen closes his eyes, can't even look at him. The kiss lingers on his lips and when he chases after the feeling, he can sense the still-living spark of lightning burning deep in his gut. He wouldn't know until tomorrow if this gifted lightning would be smothered out under the blanket of his brand, but if it didn't… if it _didn't_ …

'If I let you go,' murmurs Jongdae, tipping his head forward to nudge his nose into Chen's cheek, searching for some soft touch Chen is too tired to reject. 'You wouldn't spare me.'

'Good guys don't have _slaves_ ,' he says tiredly, retreading old ground, clinging for a thin string of control even after all this.

'Don't they?' Jongdae asks, his mouth a whisper along the shell of his ear, his hands holding fast onto Chen. 'We do.'

'Yes,' agrees Chen, and lets it hang.

  
  
  
  
  


The next morning, the lightning inside him catches alight.

-

**Author's Note:**

> this is a 'everyone sucks here' situation. thank you for reading!


End file.
